


Mother of Angels

by Omegarose



Category: Abrahamic Religions, Original Work
Genre: Absent Parent, Archangels, Baby Angels, Blasphemy probably, Creation Myth, Earth, Fall of Lucifer, Gen, Heaven, Hell, The Garden of Eden, The Tree of Knowledge, blatant abuse of capitalization, brief/non graphic child abuse, fall of humanity, non-typical pronouns, pronouns are all over the place, technically, there's not supposed to be quotation marks, unique formating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 22:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omegarose/pseuds/Omegarose
Summary: Jophiel, the First Angel, was tasked with caring for the rest of the Heavenly Host. It became her duty, her post, her calling. For all intents and purposes she was their mother. A mother who loved her children beyond love--more than the sea or the earth or the sun or the moon or Heaven itself.





	Mother of Angels

Jophiel was once an angel.

The very first angel, as it was. There was nothing but her and her Father in the vast space of oblivion. It wasn’t lonely because she didn’t have anything to reference against. Mostly, it was just calm.

And then there was light.

God made more like her within the light that was Heaven. Archangels, He called them. His children.

Raphael, and Uriel, and Jegudiel, and Michael, and Selaphiel, and Brachiel, and little Gabriel.

As the eldest, Father told Jophiel, you must watch over them. I have much work yet to do.

Jophiel did as He asked.

The archangels varied in stages of development--from Raphael who had very little physical growing left to do, to Michael who had yet to fly, to Gabriel who couldn’t walk. They were difficult to handle, but Jophiel managed: answering every one of Jegudiel’s questions, singing with Selaphiel, playing silly games with Brachiel, praising Uriel’s drawings. She taught Raphael how to heal, and coached Michael in how to fly, and held Gabriel’s hands as he stumbled on round legs. She made sure to kiss every scraped knee and to listen to everything they had to say.

The archangels grew until they were capable of doing nearly everything by themselves, even if Jophiel made sure they would never have to. They had her, and they had each other.

Why? Jegudiel asked one day. We are grown. You have fulfilled what Father has asked of you.

Because, Jophiel answered, taking his hands in hers, I love you all.

Jegudiel said he didn’t understand. Father said to love all things, of course Jophiel loved the archangels. But it didn’t explain why Jophiel went so above and beyond Father’s orders.

Because, said Jophiel with a lowered voice, I love you all  _ more _ than anything else Father has made. More than the sea or the animals Father made to fill the Earth or the moon or the sun or Heaven itself.

Is that allowed? Jegudiel asked, gasping as the concept.

Jophiel shrugged, uncaring.

Then God decided that there should be more angels. Many, many, many more angels.

The archangels shall help you, He told Jophiel.

Jophiel didn’t want to pull Uriel from his work or force seriousness onto Brachiel, or make any of them shoulder the heavy burdens of responsibility. But she didn’t have much of a choice.

If you have any questions come to me, she told them.

You are already doing so much, Raphael protested. In her arms she held two of Heaven’s most recent arrivals.

Come to me, Jophiel insisted. I’ve done this before, and you needn’t struggle.

The archangels listened, as they always listened to her.

Jophiel made a point to listen and speak to and praise the archangels as she always had. She tried as much as possible to bear the brunt of the rearing of the new angels: bedtime stories and hugs to make the bruises better and help with walking and then flying and singing lullabies and rocking to sleep and conversing with them even when it was half nonsense. She whispered to each and every one of them that she loved them more than the sea or the animals Father makes or the moon or the sun or Heaven itself.

Every time she thought that Father might stop creating more angels, another feathery bundle with a cooing fledgling within would be handed to her with a reminder to look out for them. She always held them close and kissed their head and committed herself over to them.

You deserve a title, Gabriel told her once. Like how I am the Messenger and Michael is the General and Uriel is the Grand Painter.

I am the Eldest, the First, Jophiel reminded. I need no more than that.

Yes you do, argued Ariel--one of the older angels who dedicated much of his existence to the care of those younger, though Jopheil never allowed his burden to match hers.

You’ve cared for us all, you have loved us beyond love, Brachiel added.

Mother, Ariel suggested. Like the mother animals who take care of their young.

Why? Jophiel asked. I did not make you. Father did.

But you are our Mother, Gabriel insisted. You may not have birthed us, but you have raised us and loved us beyond love like a mother should. You are no sister, you are more.

So the angels began to call Her Mother and loved Her all the more. 

More than the sea or the animals Father has made or the moon or the sun or Heaven itself, they told Her just as She told them.

God was not around to hear Her new title. He was busy with what He called His Greatest Creation. Not that He had been around much Before. At least He had used to make time for the archangels--His Eldest, His First, His Best.

Jophiel had not known anger Before. She had never had a reason to feel anger. She just did as God said, following His orders. Then again, the angels and archangels had never been carelessly caused pain Before, especially not by the one they called Father.

She had not known anger but She recognized it. Knew what it was that She felt when God turned Selaphiel away from Him, and when He ignored Uriel’s newest and most beautiful inventions of the sunset, and when He refused to answer Jegudiel’s questions about the newest addition to Earth.

I am Finished, God announced, long after the archangels stopped trying for His attention and the angels learned not to expect to feel His presence with even the most sporadic frequency.

What is it? Jophiel asked while everyone else remained silent.

Man, said God. My Greatest Creation. I want you to serve them and love them more than anything else I have ever made, and ever will.

No, Jophiel said. Her anger from the past resurfaced and grew in strength.

God forgot how to speak. He did not expect Her of all His angels to speak back, if any at all.

_ Mother,  _ the angels murmured, as one. _ Mother do not fight Him, Mother do as He says. Do not disobey, Mother. _

What is this? God finally spoke.

The murmuring quieted but did not end.

I will not love Man as your Greatest Creation, Jophiel told Him. Your Greatest Creations have been in front of you since the Beginning.

Do not be Prideful, Jophiel, He said like thunder over a plain. You are not My Greatest Creation.

I’m not, agreed Jophiel. But they are.

The archangels inched closer to Her side, eyes averted from the sheer force of His glare. The angels shivered behind Her, but they still closed rank.

As for loving Man more than anything else, I cannot, She said. For I have loved these angels more than love. More than the sea or all of the animals You have created or the moon or the sun or Heaven itself. I am their Mother and they are My children.

If you will not Obey Me, said God with righteous fury. Then you are no longer welcome Here.

I will not leave them, She said, Her wings spreading wide before Her children like they would shield the hundreds behind Her from God Himself.

You will, God decreed, and  **pulled** .

_ Mother! _ The angels cried.

_ Father, stop! _ the archangels pleaded.

Jophiel forced Herself to stay on Her feet even as blood flowed down from the stumps of where Her wings should be.

_ Father! Father! _ the angels screamed.

_ Mother! _ they wailed.

I banish You to Hell, Jophiel, and take Your wings in penance, He said and She was Falling.

What She was not there to hear was God’s demands. The angels must choose: Him, their Creator, their Father and Heaven or Her and Hell and Eternal Damnation.

Hundreds of angels Fell. More stayed.

When Jophiel awoke to find so many of Her children strewn around Her, injured by the Fall from Heaven to Hell, wings torn from them without regard--from Kokabiel, the Star, one of the eldest, to tiny little Belial with her face still round with fat, never given the chance to use the wings God had given her--She felt rage.

How dare He.

All for what? His newest creation? The one He claimed to be better than anything else He made Before? After He ignored His proclaimed children He had no hand in raising, passed to Her mere moments after their births?

How.

_ Dare _ .

He.

She held Belial close to Her breast, smoothing away her tears and whispered, I love you more than love, more than Heaven itself.

_ How could He, Mother? My wings, Mother! Mother, I just wanted to stay with you! Heaven is our home, Mother! He made me  _ ** _choose_ ** _ , Mother! _

Their voices rose together, crying out for Her to comfort.

I am so sorry for what God has done to you, She said. I will not let Him go unpunished for what He has done.

What will you do? Mephistophelees asked, clinging to Her arm.

I will destroy the Man that He so loves, Jophiel proclaimed.

_ The Garden, _ Procel whispered, more and more of xir brethren picking up the chant.  _ The Garden, the Garden, the Garden on Earth. He keeps Man there. The Garden, Garden, Garden. _

Look after each other, said Jophiel. I will be back as soon as I have accomplished what I seek. I love you all more than the sea and the animals and the moon and the sun and Heaven itself.

_ Love you, love you, love you. _

And She set off to destroy God as He destroyed Her--making Her children choose between Her or Him, when He knew that many of them could force themselves to leave. She could never ask any of Her children to Fall for Her, though it warmed her Heart that some of them were willing to do so.

She would make this Man choose, and She would make sure they wouldn’t choose Him.

There were two of them. Man and Woman. Adam and Eve. Full grown even though they were only days old. Jophiel watched and waited and listened. They were not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. She would insure that they did.

Eve was difficult to persuade, but not impossible. Jophiel just told her the truth of God, how truly awful He was. How He abandoned His first “favorites” for Man, and very well might do so again.

God threw them Out when He learned that they had eaten from the Tree. Without the Garden they were helpless in the desert, surrounded by hostile animals and harsh vegetation.

Jophiel watched as Eve carried and bore the first son, Cain. Adam struggled to tame and fend off the wildlife in order to provide for what was his. Better than God had ever done.

Jophiel pitied the Man and Woman and Son. She hadn’t thought God would abandon them so harshly, not so soon after making them.

She went to Eve one day, when she was heavy with her second child and Cain was just learning to walk.

Who are you? Eve asked fearfully.

I am the Mother of Angels, She said. My name is Lucifer Morningstar, the Bringer of Light.

Because She had brought light, hadn’t She? Without Her there might be no light at all, for all She knew. God might not have ever began creating if He had never created Her. Without Her there would be no  _ real _ light, either. Without her none of the angels would be anywhere close to what they were. There would be no stars, and no sunrises or sunsets, no flavors in the food the mortal beings needed to live, or colors that bloomed in all things, or music everywhere. 

Why are you here? Eve asked. Cain peered from behind her legs and made Jophiel’s-no, Lucifer’s heart to clench with remembrance of little angels that were always around. She may not be an angel, may have rid God’s given name for Her, but Before was still a sweet memory.

You are a mother, like I am, Lucifer answered. A mother who has been spurned by the one you call Father, a Father who has left your children to pain and harshness.

I know You, said Eve. You are the Snake from the Garden.

I was angry at God, She admitted. He had taken My wings and threw Me to Hell, and then forced My children to choose. The ones that chose me were exiled from Heaven. It was only fair to return the favor.

Eve didn’t speak, but Lucifer could read her eyes.

You know it was fair. You would do the same for Cain.

Why have you come? Eve asked, voice trembling.

I bear apologies, and gifts, Lucifer told her. I apologize for the way God has thrown you out, and the part I played in that, and I bear the gift of a title.

What good will a title do me while my son starves and my husband toils all day? Eve asked.

Titles give power you do not know, answered Lucifer. You shall be known as the Mother of All Man, and with it you will raise many children who will do many good things. With this title, you become powerful. And power is something to be sensed by every living thing.

Eve understood, and nearly cried out in thanks when thunder crashed across the skies and rain poured down from Heaven.

You must go, said Gabriel from the door. Or Father will force you to.

Gabriel... Lucifer murmured. It had been longer than any time Before since She had last seen him.

Father says you are to leave Earth and his Humans in peace, Gabriel insisted.

Lightning forked across the sky.

Mother, please, go, Gabriel whispered. His wings wilted and his eyes cried their pain.

I will, said Lucifer. If you will carry a message for me.

Gabriel nodded and the Mother of All Men watched on with the First Son.

Tell all of the archangels and angels still in Heaven that I wish them the best, She said. Tell them I am sorry I left, that I love them beyond love. More than the sea or the beasts or the moon or the sun or Heaven itself.

Gabriel began to turn away.

And tell them that they will always be My children, She called after him. You will always be Mine.

I know, he answered. We know.

So he returned to Heaven, and She returned to Hell, and Humanity forgot the name Jophiel. But angels were not Humans.

They would never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first original work I've ever posted. It's losely based on all of the Supernatural, Good Omens, and Lucifer things that I watch, and a little on Paradise Lost, and my background as someone who grew up Catholic. I don't know how I would go around possibly getting anything like this published so I thought I might as well post it instead of letting it sit in my drive forever.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at https://fandumb-thoughts.tumblr.com/


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